


Here Be Dragons

by TheFibreWitch



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst, First attempts at AU, Gen, I love the sea, I took a class on the history of pirates and here we are, Malcolm is kidnapped by pirates, Set in the 1700's, Whump, and I love Prodigal Son, i love pirates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 07:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26349406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFibreWitch/pseuds/TheFibreWitch
Summary: c. 1720Malcolm Bright has never known his father. He has always strived for greatness and he finds it in his duty as a Navigator in the Royal Navy. However, his life is soon unhinged when he is taken by notorious pirate captain Martin Whitly, aka The Surgeon. As he adjusts to his captivity on Martin's ship, The Claremont, he soon realizes the Captain is more than just a monster. Meanwhile, Jessica reaches out to Gil Arroyo, an old friend, and a respected sea captain, to assist in rescuing her son from the clutches of The Surgeon.
Comments: 34
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Here be dragons" (hic sunt dracones in Latin) means dangerous or unexplored territories.
> 
> Hello! I hope y'all enjoy this fic I never meant to write but it took over my life and made me bring my love of pirates and Prodigal Son together for a fun AU.  
> I want to thank [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/) for her helpful edits and [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab) for her endless cheerleading and encouragment. I LOVE YOU!

Malcolm awoke on the hard floor. The smell of dampness and salt-filled his nose. His head throbbed. He laid still trying to gain his bearings. The floor swayed gently underneath him. So, he was on a ship. He moved to sit up but immediately dropped to the floor again, unsure if it was the ship’s motion or the probable concussion that made him nearly empty his stomach. He let out a heavy groan. Slowly, he opened his eyes and assessed his surroundings. In the dim light, he saw iron bars around him. He looked down at his hands and felt the weight of shackles encircling his wrists. He sighed; he was in the ship’s brig. He sat up again, this time wincing as his chains scraped the wooden deck. Leaning back against the hull, he reflected on how he ended up in this situation. He closed his eyes as he heard the echo of his mother’s screams.

_The Surgeon._

The madman had attacked their seaside home. Knowing the stories, he feared the worst for his mother. The Surgeon was not well known to leave his victims alive. He supposed the only reason he was still breathing was because The Surgeon intended to make him a member of his crew. He was an expert Navigator in His Majesty’s Royal Navy. He supposed a feared pirate captain could potentially be in need of a navigator.

Malcolm frowned at the idea. He’d rather die than serve under a monster. Movement in the corner of his eye interrupted his thoughts. A dark-skinned man with a bald head emerged from the shadows of the ship, holding a bucket and a ladle.

“Here, some grog. Captain doesn’t want you to die of thirst,” the man said.

Malcolm just stared at him, remaining silent.

The man sighed and opened the cell door.

“My name is Mr. David. Some advice? The Captain does not tolerate… insubordination. It’s best you learn that now.”

He set the bucket close to Malcolm, then retreated. Mr. David gave Malcolm a wistful glance before locking the cell door and disappearing into the shadows from whence he came.

Malcolm waited until he was sure he was alone again before taking the ladle. The liquid burned his throat as he greedily drank. Having quenched his thirst, he leaned back again, and decided to rest, as he waited for whatever fate he was to be faced with.

\----

“Where’s the lad?”

A loud, rasping voice boomed, stirring Malcolm from his sleep.

“In here, sir,” Mr. David had appeared again with a broad man following behind. He did not look as nearly as friendly as Mr. David. He wore a scowl that made his thick mustache twitch when he spoke.

Malcolm pressed himself back against the wall, attempting to distance himself from the mean faced man who was now glaring at him through the bars.

“Let’s go, boy,” the man growled as Mr. David unlocked the cell door.

Malcolm didn’t move. The man’s face twisted into a sour grimace. He charged into the cell and yanked Malcolm up by his collar.

“I said, let’s go!”

He dragged Malcolm, still in his shackles, across the floor. Malcolm struggled against the man as he tried to gain his footing. The man did not yield, practically choking Malcolm with his own shirt as he manhandled him up the deck stairs. Malcolm’s head hit the railing in the struggle, and he cried out in pain as blood trickled into his eyes and his ears rang.

The hulking man scoffed and continued to drag the battered Malcolm behind him. Reaching the top deck, Malcolm saw a dozen hard faces glowering at him as he was pulled along. The man threw open a set of doors and grunted with effort as he hurled Malcolm over the threshold. Malcolm coughed and wheezed as his body settled on the floor. He spat a bit of blood on the planks.

“Tsk, Watkins, do you have to be such a brute?” a new voice spoke. Malcolm groaned as he attempted to draw himself off the deck.

“Good Christ, were you trying to kill him?” the voice chastised.

“He’s _fine_ , Captain,” the brute spat.

The Surgeon hummed in agreement, “Sit up, my boy, let me look at you.”

Malcolm slowly lifted his head, blinking the blood out of his eyes. His gaze was met with a curly-haired man who wore a predatorial smile.

“Ah, you favor your mother, such a vision,” the Captain gave Malcolm a wink.

Rage surged in Malcolm’s chest.

“Don’t you dare speak of my mother!” he snarled. His outburst was met with a kick to the back from Watkins.

Malcolm winced and coughed from the abuse. When he looked up again, the Captain’s face was serious.

“Such vigor. You’d do well to learn to hold your tongue my boy if you want to survive on my ship.” The Captain’s tone was flat. Malcolm bared his teeth but said nothing.

“I hear you’re a top navigator with the Royal Navy. That is no longer the case. You are now under my employ. Your old life is gone.”

The Surgeon simply flicked his wrist as if to dismiss Malcolm’s livelihood.

“It’s best you accept that now.”

The Captain moved from behind his desk and crouched down in front of Malcolm.

“You’re my boy, Malcolm, and your future is mine. We’re the same, you and I,” the man spoke softly, his words making Malcolm’s guts seize with anxiety. The prospect of being under this monster’s control was enough to make his blood run cold.

The Surgeon stood.

“Take him down below, give him food, and bring him before me again in a few days’ time. We should be well on our way to catching our prize by then.”

Watkins nodded and yanked Malcolm up again. He barely felt the pain as Watkins dragged him back down to his cell. His reality was shattered by The Surgeon’s proclamation.


	2. Chapter 2

“Gil!”

Gil groaned and rolled over in his bunk; he had just started to relax now that they had returned to Port Royal. He liked staying in his Captain’s cabin aboard _The Jacqueline_ while his men went ashore. It offered more privacy and quiet than any brothel or tavern on the island.

The banging on his door continued. The afternoon light glinted lazily through the windows of the cabin. Gil glared at the wooden beams above his bed, silently willing the intrusion of his peace would get the hint and go away.

“Gil!”

He sighed, abandoning his hopes for relaxation. He shuffled over to the door and pulled it open.

“What is it, Dani?” he asked wearily. Dani stood with her fist raised to bang on the door again, she lowered her arm. Her many rings glinted in the fading sunlight. She wore a long coat over a billowing blouse and dark breeches. Her dark curly hair was half pulled back with a leather tie and small braids kept the stray locks in check. The floorboards groaned under her boots as she reached into her pocket.

“There was a letter waiting for you at Rosario’s,” she replied, thrusting a folded envelope at him.

He turned and walked towards his desk as he examined the paper in his hands. He caught sight of the wax seal and nearly dropped the letter. It bore the Milton Crest. It had been many years since he had last seen that crest. His heart raced as he tore open the seal and quickly scanned the letter’s contents. The message was clear and concise:

_Come quickly_

_-J.M._

Dani leaned casually on the doorframe, observing him. He felt a rush in his veins.

“Dani, find JT and bring the rest of the crew. Prepare to sail for the Milton Estate.”

\----

JT pulled the rowboat ashore as Dani and Gil waded through the surf. Gil shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked up at the great house on the cliff above. JT huffed as he pushed the sleeves up over his arms and rubbed his shaven head.

“Any special reason as to why we’re paying a visit to your rich lady-friend?” JT teased. He wagged his eyebrows at Gil, “Is this a social call?”

Gil said nothing as his cheeks flushed. Dani smirked as they ascended the cliffside.

The house was even grander up close. Alabaster walls rose high above them and windows covered nearly every surface, making the house the perfect lookout from all angles. Palm trees swayed in the gentle breeze and manicured bushes and exotic flowers lined the pathway. It was exactly as Gil remembered it.

“Pah, rich people,” JT scoffed. “Always showing off their wealth.” He spat into the dirt.

Gil cuffed his arm and gave a stern glare in warning, “Knock it off. Show some respect.”

JT frowned at the reprimand. Dani rolled her eyes and gave a humorless grin. Gil heaved a sigh that translated to something along the lines of _I’m surrounded by children._

Gil approached the door and knocked twice.

A small woman opened it almost immediately as if she had been waiting for this exact moment.

“Welcome sirs and madam,” the maid curtsied and beckoned them into the foyer. “Let me fetch the mistress.”

Her footsteps faded into the house. The trio looked around, there was a large, ornate staircase that spiraled up as if towards the heavens. The many windows bathed the entire area with an ethereal glow.

“See what I mean?” JT grumbled to Dani, “Rich people.”

Gil ignored him as the footsteps returned.

“The mistress wishes to greet you on the back veranda.” The maid turned and led them through the house.

Treasures and trinkets were on display as they ventured deeper into the building. Beautiful paintings and portraits of family members lined the walls. Gil did a double-take as he saw a portrait depicting a young man in a Royal Navy uniform accompanied by a yellow and green parakeet. Gil tore his gaze away and noticed his partners were also gawking at the riches around them. He made a point to catch their eyes to send a silent message; _touch anything and you’ll be scrubbing the deck for a year._

JT rolled his eyes in response, and Dani gave a small nod.

They came to the back of the house where a brown-haired woman adorned in a red silk gown sat, drinking from a crystal glass, and staring out to sea.

“Mistress, your guests.”

“Thank you, Louisa,” the woman replied, her eyes never leaving the ocean.

The maid curtsied again and disappeared into the house.

“Ma’am,” Gil gave a slight bow, JT and Dani followed his lead.

“Oh please,” the woman said, turning to face them, “No need for formalities. Sit. Care for a drink?”

Her blue eyes sparkled slightly, just like the sea when it caught the sun just right. She held up a decanter of rum.

“If you insist -,” JT stepped forward, Gil cleared his throat in warning.

“Oh Gil, calm down,” she laughed a little and extended a glass to JT. Dani raised an eyebrow at Gil as JT accepted the cup and nearly downed it all in an instant.

“Jess--, er, Lady Milton, why have you requested my presence?” Gil stumbled over his words. The woman’s eyes turned sad, and she glanced out at the ocean again. Gil noticed she clutched a handkerchief in her fist.

“Jessica?” Gil mumbled softly.

Jessica’s eyes welled a little, making them even more like the sea, as saltwater threatened to drip down her cheeks. “My son,” her voice was hollow.

Gil blinked. Malcolm. Her only son. He had not seen him in many years, not since he had joined the Royal Navy - an honor for the man of the family. Gil had always been fond of the boy. He was brilliant and surely was going to make a name for himself.

Gil felt a pang of guilt, wishing he had spent more time with Malcolm. The boy had no father, dead long before he was born, but despite that, Malcolm seemed to thrive. Gil remembered making trips to the estate when he was a younger captain, taking Malcolm out on his ship and stargazing all night. Malcolm always had a keen interest in navigation and using the heavens to guide one’s way. Gil gave a small smile at the memory.

“Martin took him,” Jessica’s voice pulled Gil back to reality.

“Martin?” Gil echoed, “Martin Whitly?”

“The Surgeon?” Dani piped in.

Jessica nodded in response.

“His men stormed the beach when Malcolm was home on leave. He went down to turn them away before they could come up the cliff, thinking he could reason with them. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen.”

The tears finally fell.

“I watched as they dragged him back to their ship.”

Dani frowned. “You want us to go get him?” she surmised.

“That’s suicide!” JT blurted.

Gil glanced at them. Martin “The Surgeon” Whitly was a ghost from Gil’s past, and Jessica’s too. He had feared the day Martin’s name would be uttered again.

In another lifetime, Gil had served on a Royal Navy ship commanded by Jessica’s father. The ship’s surgeon was one of the best at sea. Martin Whitly was famous, and sailors had once thought it good luck to serve on a crew with him. But there were two sides to every coin. The sea was an unforgiving force, and while Martin saved many lives, many were also mysteriously lost under his watch. Rumors soon spread that the ship’s surgeon had developed a lust for blood.

“Why?” Gil questioned, shaking off the memories. “Why didn’t Martin just kill him?”

“Because he’s –,” Jessica took a deep breath. “Because he’s Malcolm’s father.”

Gil’s stomach dropped. In his old life, he’d gotten to know Jessica from when her father would dock at the estate. Gil was always drawn to her, her beauty, her wit. Everything about her intrigued him. Apparently he wasn’t alone in this sentiment.

“Well, this sounds like a family affair, why are we to be involved?” Dani dismissed.

“Because Gil is the only one I trust to bring Malcolm home,” Jessica snapped. “And the only one I trust to see that bastard of a pirate hanged.”

Her eyes flashed with rage. Gil had no doubt in his mind that if it were up to Jessica, she’d kill Martin with her own two hands.

She took a deep pull of rum.

“Please. Just bring him home,” she whispered.

Gil’s heart broke. He felt for her. He gave another bow.

“I swear to you, I will find him and bring him back to you.”

Jessica stood and placed a hand on Gil’s shoulder.

“Be safe.”

Another tear slipped down her cheek.

\----

As they rowed back to the ship, the protest Gil knew was inevitable made itself known.

“Who is this guy to you?” Dani interrogated. She was strong-willed and not easily swayed once she had her mind made up about something. It was clear to Gil that her mind was against their quest.

“More importantly, who is _she_ to you?” JT interjected. Gil sighed.

“I suppose this story was bound to surface one day,” he replied.

Dani and JT gave him identical looks of intrigue.

“A long time ago, I worked under Jessica Milton’s father on a Royal Navy vessel. I was young and new to the sea. He was a good Captain and a good man. We sailed all over the West Indies providing passage and trade between the islands. Occasionally we would dock at his estate to take leave and relax between voyages. Captain Milton was very hospitable to us on his own land, and we felt as though we were like a second family of his. Jessica would occasionally visit our camp, bringing food and news from the islands. She was a remarkable woman, and I took a fancy to her company. But I was sure to remember my station, as we were from different worlds, and I doubted that she ever felt anything for me aside from friendship. Even so, my fondness of her never left.”

Dani rolled her eyes.

“Well obviously stations were not a concern of hers since she had a child with The Surgeon of all people,” she quipped, and then gave a look of apology when Gil grimaced at her words.

“So aside from unrequited love, why is her son a concern of ours?” JT asked.

Gil glanced between the two of them before continuing.

“Martin… The Surgeon used to be a shipmate on that Navy vessel. I’ve never told anyone about this until now, but he actually saved my life once. I was in the rigging one day when a fight broke out on the deck. I ended up taking a stray bullet to my arm, I lost my balance and fell to the deck. I was sure that I would die. If not from the fall, then from the wound. I awoke in the surgery and found that my wound, which was luckily only a shallow graze, had been patched and that my leg was broken from the fall.”

Dani and JT wore expressions of concern. Gil let his eyes wander across the horizon in reverie, remembering the fear that seized his soul upon awakening.

“Martin mended me, and Caption Milton allowed for me to stay as a guest on his estate until I was well enough to return to my position aboard the ship. I stayed at the Captain’s home for a few months and often was in the company of Jessica. She was betrothed at that point, to whom, she did not say. But she did let slip that her betrothal was… consummated and successful. She was with child.”

“Martin’s,” Dani supplied, Gil nodded.

“It appears so. Anyway, while I was off the ship, strange things began to occur. Many sailors lost their lives over the few months I was away. Rumors began to spread about a “killer surgeon” on Milton’s crew. When I finally returned, the air aboard the ship was different, tenser. I could feel the eyes of Martin on my every move. Perhaps he was sizing me up to be his next victim. I never found out, and he never got the chance. Soon after my recovery, our ship was attacked. The pirate captain killed a majority of the sailors and Captain Milton, leaving only a handful left that he allowed to join his crew. Martin and I were one of the lucky ones.”

“But then, after we returned to the pirate’s home port, the captain and quartermaster both were killed in the dead of night. No one really knows what happened, but I have my suspicions about the culprit. I then went on to raise my own crew and Martin ascended into the mythos of being the most notorious pirate captain in the West Indies: “ _The Surgeon_ ”.” Gil finished with his story, leaned back, and took a drink from a canteen.

“Sure, but you still haven’t answered why we’re risking our necks for this woman’s son,” Dani was not backing down.

Gil sighed and continued. “After I left the pirate crew and before I gained my own, I felt that Jessica had a right to know what befell her father. So I returned to the estate. Her child had been born by then and when I told her the tale of our ill-fated crew, she claimed the boy’s father was among those dead.”

“I suppose in that moment, I decided that although this boy’s father was gone, perhaps I could provide some semblance of a figure for him to look up to. Jessica deserved that after losing a father and a soon to be husband. I couldn’t stand aside and forsake a family who cared for me when I was at my weakest.”

“So over the years I would visit and show him the ways of the sea. I suppose I’m the reason why he was so intent to join the Navy. So now, to answer your question, I am faced with a decision to take action or doom a family to more tragedy. And quite frankly, I’ve always been a man of action.”

Dani crossed her arms, but the look on her face told Gil that she understood his cause. She respected Gil, looked up to him. He felt kindred to her; she too came from nothing into something. The sea had a way of conjuring people like that.

“Well, how do we find him? Malcolm?” JT huffed as he rowed the small boat.

“For now we go home and keep an ear out for any word of Captain Whitly and his bloody trail.” Gil’s face darkened.

He hoped for the sake of Malcolm that he would be safe in the monster’s grasp. As they boarded the ship, Gil stole a glance back at the grand house on the cliff.

“I’ll find him,” he whispered to no one, “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you all are enjoying this fun little tale. I appreciate your love and comments! It means the world to me <3


	3. Chapter 3

Malcolm felt like he had just shut his eyes when he heard shouting on the deck above him. It had been a few days since his introduction to The Surgeon. Everything felt surreal to him. He was haunted by the madman’s words. His only reprieve was when Mr. David would bring him food and drink. He was thankful that Watkins stayed away.

The shouting above became more frequent, and Malcolm recognized the familiar call and reply between the crewmen. He couldn’t make out what was being shouted, only that something was happening. Then a clear voice rang out:

“Sails! South, south-east!”

That got Malcolm’s attention. He sat up, wincing from the sores that the irons had rubbed on his wrists. But he ignored the pain, as hope bloomed in his chest. The crew had spotted another ship. Perhaps it was a Navy ship, he could try to escape, get back to his home, his life. The upswing of his mood crashed down as he realized he was on a pirate ship and doubted the Navy wanted to hear out any man on the traitorous vessel. Another reality was that the approaching ship was a pirate hunter, where again, he would be assumed a pirate and executed with the men who held him prisoner. He frowned at himself, trying to remain optimistic.

The deck above thundered as the men rushed to their stations. Malcolm felt utterly adrift. He needed to do something. He needed to save himself. He’d die fighting if he had to, but he would no longer let fate control him. He needed something to pick the lock on his chains. He started searching the hay that lined the floor of his cell.

Nothing.

He began looking around the dimly lit space for some tool or object to aid in his escape. Everything that could have been useful was carefully stored well out of his reach. He let out a shout of frustration. He paced around the cell, trying to think. His eyes caught something on the other side of the bars. A hammer. It must have been carelessly tossed aside. The best part was it was within his reach. He scrambled to the floor and wasted no time in retrieving his salvation. The weight of the tool felt good in his hands. But how was he going to fight while still shackled? His mind raced as he assessed his possibilities. He could try to use the hammer to break the irons, but the angle would be difficult with the chains restraining him.

He closed his eyes, trying to figure out a way out of this. His stomach did a little flip at the idea that popped into his head. When he was younger he had fallen from a cliff near his home. He had broken his wrist, and although he was in agonizing pain, he still managed to pull himself back up the hill to get help. If he could do that, he could fight with one hand. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He slowly sank to the floor and spread his hand flat on the wood. He raised the hammer up as far as he could manage. His heartbeat roared in his ears. He closed his eyes and braced for the worst.

“Oh come now, Malcolm.”

Startled, he let out the breath he had been holding. The Surgeon stepped out of the shadows.

“You’re no good to me with a broken hand,” Martin chided. His face was split in a humorless smile as he approached the cage.

Malcolm stood abruptly, gripping the hammer.

“Would you put that down?” Martin asked. Mr. David appeared behind him. “I’m coming to let you out.” Martin motioned for Mr. David to unlock the door.

“Let me out? You’re letting me go?” Malcolm inquired dubiously. Maybe Martin was going to use him as some sort of leverage for the ship they were approaching. But no, Malcolm used a fake name to draw attention away from his family’s wealth and position. Martin couldn’t possibly know that Malcolm was of any value.

“Ah, not let you go,” Martin corrected. “We’re taking a prize.” His eye sparkled with excitement. “Now, hand Mr. David the hammer, and we’ll get you ready to fight,” Martin said over his shoulder as he turned and walked away.

Malcolm stood dumbfounded again. Mr. David carefully removed the hammer from his grasp.

“Easy, just survive this next part and you’ll be okay,” Mr. David said softly.

Malcolm looked at him, “What do you mean?”

“He wants you to prove yourself. Fight for him and win this ship, and you’ll be rewarded,” Mr. David replied. The chains binding Malcolm’s wrists clanged to the floor loudly. The sound of freedom made such a dissonant noise. Malcolm rubbed his wrists as Mr. David led him to the upper deck.

Malcolm emerged to see Martin standing on the quarterdeck addressing the crew. They all looked to him as if he were their king.

“Gents! Brothers! Today we have found ourselves a prize! Our fortune is nearly in our grasp. Leave no man unaccounted for, let them know who sealed their fates!”

“To your stations! Gun crews at the ready!” Watkins bellowed and the men scattered. Mr. David led Malcolm to the Captain.

“Ah, good to see you’re in one piece my boy,” Martin clapped him on the arm. Malcolm flinched. Watkins spat on the deck.

“You sure this is a good idea, Captain? He’s as scared as a newborn kitten.”

Martin ignored his quartermaster. “Did the Navy train you to fight?”

Malcolm nodded hesitantly.

Martin’s eyes darkened mischievously, “Did they train you to kill?”

Malcolm blanched at the grinning madman. “Pardon?”

Martin let out a laugh. “Watkins, get this man a sword.”

Watkins gave a mean glare to Malcolm and lumbered away.

“Now, this is very important,” Martin explained. “You are going to board that ship. You will fight anyone who opposes you, and you will kill them. No quarter shall be given. Search the ship. Bring any cowards to the top deck.”

Malcolm stared silently.

“Do you understand!?” Martin suddenly shouted.

Malcolm flinched again. “Yes,” he managed to whisper.

“Do that, and you won’t be going back to your cell.” Martin gave a stern look and patted Malcolm’s cheek.

Watkins returned with a sword and hesitantly handed it over to Malcolm.

“Oh yes,” Martin mused. “If you do not follow my orders, or you raise that sword to anyone on my crew, I will personally kill you,” Martin stated bluntly.

Malcolm nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Good,” Martin smiled widely. “Try not to die.”

\----

Malcolm waited along the ship’s rail as they closed in on the doomed merchant vessel. He realized with dread that he had no choice but to fight. He was stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea. He ground his teeth and gripped the sword tightly in his hand.

The merchant ship had raised their white flag, making a clear sign of surrender. But Malcolm knew the stories, no one surrendered to The Surgeon without a fight.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. If he could avoid fighting anyone directly, he could avoid killing. He nodded to himself. He would find a way below the deck of the merchant ship to stay out of the fight. He could claim that he was searching the goods if anyone questioned him. He exhaled. He had a plan.

Opening his eyes, he watched the other men lying in wait. They said poised, ready to tear out the throats of anyone unlucky enough to cross their path. If the stories that were told held any truth, Malcolm was about to witness a blood bath.

“Throw the lines!” Watkin’s voice called out.

Dozens of ropes and nets sailed through the air and landed on the rail of the merchant ship.

Then the men began hauling the ships together.

“Brace!’ Watkins rang out.

Malcolm lurched as the ship groaned and bumped into the other vessel.

“Prepare to board!”

Malcolm watched as the battle-ready men grinned like sharks and cascaded over the ship’s rail.

It was chaos. The screams began immediately. Pistols fired, metal clashed, yelps and cries rang out, piercing the salty air.

Malcolm was terrified. The horror of it could never be truly recounted in tales.

He wondered vaguely if he could just stay in this spot, unnoticed while hell unfolded around him. He could close his eyes and wait for this nightmare to end.

A gruff voice in his ear brought him back to his hellish reality.

“Get over that rail boy,” Watkins sneered. “Get over, or I’ll throw you over, and I don’t care if you land in the sea or at the end of a sword.”

Malcolm didn’t think twice. He stood up against his better judgment and launched himself into oblivion.

His boots hit the deck solidly as time slowed around him. There was blood everywhere; the smell of gunpowder and smoke assaulted his senses.

He lurched forward as he slipped on the slick planks. He frantically tried to gain his bearings as he tried to tell the men apart, it was an impossibility.

It was absolute pandemonium.

Men screamed and collided with each other around him. He felt trapped.

He hadn’t lied when he said the Navy had taught him how to fight, but all the training in the world could have never prepared him for this. Everything was a blur of metal and blood.

Suddenly, he caught the eye of a crazed man. Malcolm could not tell if he was friend or foe. Though in his situation, he supposed all men were foe.

The angry man swiftly crossed the deck, raising his cutlass. Malcolm barely registered the vibration traveling up his arm as he blocked the man’s attack.

Malcolm fought. He blocked, he parried. The clash of metal on metal rang in his ears. It was automatic, he had always loved learning swordplay, and he was glad he took naturally to sword fighting.

Then, another man bumped into him during the struggle, making Malcolm lose his rhythm.

Pain blossomed in his left arm, as the bloodthirsty man’s sword sliced Malcolm’s flesh. He hissed and stumbled backward.

His opponent gave a nasty grin as he advanced on his injured prey. Malcolm stumbled again, trying to regain his balance. The man swung at him, landing a heavy blow against Malcolm’s sword, causing him to fall flat on his back.

This was it.

Malcolm’s eyes were wide as he stared, entranced by the man’s face as he raised his arm to deliver the killing strike.

It never came,

Malcolm flinched as a spray of blood coated his face. His would-be killer fell to the deck next to Malcolm, a bullet hole smoking in his back.

Malcolm glanced up to see Captain Martin Whitly aiming a pistol at the now dead man. Martin said nothing and turn to continue his fight.

Malcolm lay frozen for a moment before realizing the battle was still raging on around him.

He struggled to his feet and noticed he had ended up next to the deck stairs that led down below. He didn’t waste any time as he scrambled down the stairs into the dark belly of the ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, thank you so much for all the love! I'm beyond happy to know that so many of you are enjoying this fun little story! Sorry for the delay on this chapter, life got in the way, but I'm hoping to keep updates fairly regular.


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